Remembering You
by KayleeThePete
Summary: Shannon and Sayid find what they're missing.  The End remember scene from their POVs.
1. Part 1: Shannon

I know, I know, the readers from my other stories are probably getting pissed at seeing another story up here, but not an update on one of my other stories; I'm sorry about that, but good news is that this is only a 2-part story and both are already written, so no need to fret about this particular one distracting me further. I know that stories about the remembering scenes on The End have been done before but I just felt the need to write this. Both are first-person; part one is from Shannon's POV; part two will be from Sayid's. I hope that you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine! If it was, Shannon and Sayid would have had more time together on the show.

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><p><strong>Remembering You<strong>

**Part 1: Shannon**

'Why the hell am I here?'

That is the $10,000 dollar question whirling around in my mind. Of course there are two 'here's to address: LA and this shady bar. I take a drink from my shot, trying to ignore the idiot next to me who has been attempting to flirt for nearly half an hour.

I roll my eyes and mentally turn my attention to my original self-posed question.

Why am I here in LA?

Well, when Boone had attempted to bring me back a couple of weeks ago I had laughed him off and told him to go screw himself. Why I had given in when he came back and insisted I return with him this last time, I have no idea. And I am still pissed as hell that I let him talk me into coming back.

Not that I was really all that happy in Australia; or with that guy – do I even remember his name? – I didn't even really like him; I just did it to piss off Boone and, even more, his mother, my stepmother. That's the reason I had done most things since my father's death, to piss off my remaining "family". Though sometimes how we called ourselves a family is beyond me. Boone can be alright, when he isn't being a self-righteous prick, but my stepmother…I had yet to find any real redeeming qualities in her – the witch had destroyed my dreams after all.

So why had I allowed myself to be talked into returning to this town where I knew I would be just plain miserable?

Because of a damned _feeling_. A feeling that something was off, like I was forgetting something and it was driving me nuts as to what that was. When Boone came back to Australia to try again it was the first time that the feeling eased at all, and that alone had – for some insane reason – been enough to get me on a plane back here – not that I had made it easy for Boone though.

I drain the last of my shot and gesture to the bartender for another, to which he nods and begins to pour me another glass. The guy next to me is still droning on; I continue to ignore him, hoping that eventually he will take the hint. Normally I would have torn him a new one long before this point but I'm just not in the mood.

My mind turns to the second question:

Why am I here in this godforsaken bar?

The reason for this was a little simpler – if not more idiotic.

Because Boone had decided that we just _had_ to come in here and get a drink. And for some reason I had agreed. I had thought one or two drinks and we're gone. Nope. An hour later he's playing his third round of pool and I had moved to the bar, bored.

I must be insane. That's the only explanation for all of this. A – hopefully – temporary insanity that has me following Boone and stupid _feelings_ nearly blindly. I. Am. An. Idiot.

Now if this numb-nuts next to me could just shut up I might be able to drown this knowledge in the drink the bartender just gave me.

He ran his hand suggestively along my arm, making me want to vomit. "So sweetheart, why don't you and me head back to – "

"Oh my god!" I cut him off angrily. "Can't you take a hint? Get lost!"

His face becomes dark. "If you think you can lead me on – " He raises his hand, but it's caught before he can come close to striking me.

"Hey!" Boone yells at the guy, grasping his wrist. "What are you doing to my sister?"

They guy jerks his hand from Boone's grasp. "Fuck off, pretty boy," he snarls.

Boone – in a gesture totally out of character for him – punches the guy.

The guy dives at Boone taking them both to the floor; in the rush of people trying to get out of the way I am pushed toward the back.

The bartender pulls a shotgun from behind the bar and yells at Boone and the guy to "take it outside!" the guy obliges him by tossing Boone in the direction of the door and following him.

I struggle to follow them, squeezing between people trying to get to the door, but having a hard time of it. All the while I'm calling for them to stop, but they either can't hear me or are ignoring me, either is possible. By the time I finally get out the door they've disappeared; I look up and down the street for them, but there's no sign. As I turn to the left to head down the street I hear the tussle coming from the other side of the building. I run around the corner, for some reason in the back of my mind I note a bright yellow hummer parked across the street, but it's pushed away as I see the guy pounding on Boone.

"Hey!" I shout, as the guy throws Boone into the gutter. "Leave my brother alone!"

I grab at his back trying to pull him away from my prone and pulverized brother. He wrenches around and tosses me off of him, against a wall and into a pile of trash bags. I'm reeling from hitting the wall; disoriented. My head clears a little and I can hear him behind me, I know another blow is coming but I can't make my body move.

But it never comes. Instead I hear footsteps running toward us and a moment later blows being exchanged with grunts of pain and one body hitting the ground with a groan within seconds.

I'm finally beginning to regain my bearings when a deep, accented voice says, "Hey, it's alright," and fingers brush down my upper arm – chills run down my spine and my heart's pounding overtime at the slightest touch – to finally grasp my elbow gently.

It's like a bolt of lightning. I've never heard that voice before but I know it. That hand – its touch – I know it like I know my name…

The memories flash through my mind.

Sharing a mango on the beach, our legs entangled; him gently brushing a lock of my hair away from my face.

Him helping me carry the suitcase full of Boones things when it was too much for me.

Our kisses…every single one we shared…

The place that he built for us – that tiny, perfect, little hut – and how proud he was of it; the hopeful expression on his face that I would like it.

The one night we had together in the hut; lying languid in his arms afterward and teasing each other.

Him telling me he believes in me…that he loves me.

Every moment.

Every heartbeat.

I remember it all.

I let my eyes drift up – hardly daring to believe that it could be true – to that face…_his_ face…his dark eyes…

He looks so startled. So confused for a moment. As if he is trying to place where he knows me. And it only takes a second until I see the memories return to him. His expression is more disbelieving now, as if he just can't believe I'm here, not that I am having any less trouble believing that _he_is here. At some point I had returned his grasp and am gripping his arm; he gently helps me to my feet, neither of us able to break eye contact.

The disbelief is gone now; I'm drinking in every inch of his face, his intense gaze – I had forgotten how entirely he can focus on me, as if I'm the only thing in the world; he's the only one who's ever looked at me like that – and he's staring back at me as if I'm a dream. Maybe this is a dream…no…no I know it's not, I don't know how I know but I know it's not.

His expression becomes one of such aching tenderness and love that I can hardly breathe. A grin spreads across my face and I can feel tears of joy burning behind my eyes; it takes me a moment but finally, finally I can say his name, "Sayid."

He breathes out my name, "Shannon."

The breath is stolen from my lungs. Oh, how I have missed hearing my name from his lips. His hand comes up to cup the side of my face in that habitual gesture of his from the island; the one that he used to reassure me that he was there and that he cared. This time, though, it feels like he is reassuring himself that I'm here and real as he runs his hand up and down my hair for a moment, caressing my cheek with his thumb; he looks like he wants to weep. I don't know how, but somehow I know what happened to him in his life, even before the crash and after my death, all he went through and did – maybe that's just how it is here – and I want to wash away the pain and guilt he is carrying for him; I want to let him know I love him, no matter what he did. So I say the words I never got to say to him in life.

"I love you, Sayid."

His eyes light up with joy and relief; then his lips crash onto mine. His kiss, oh his kiss. I had forgotten how consuming it was; how the intensity matched the one he looked at me with – carving out our own little world where only the two of us exist. All of the scattered pieces of myself; the emptiness I had run all over the planet trying to fill – both in life and here – pull back together and it's as if the hole in me never existed, as if I was never in pieces.

Our arms are locked around each other, as if we'll never let go, and I don't think we will.

When our lips part for a moment he whispers back, "I love you. And I will _never_ leave you."

I'm grinning again at the echo of his promise to me just before I died; happy tears spill down my cheeks. "I know. And I'm not ever leaving you either. You're stuck with me, forever."

He pulls me into his arms again, holding me tightly. "That is a promise I will be holding you to," his voice is rough.

I smile against his shoulder. "And _I_ will be holding you to _that_," I whisper back.

We just hold each other, reveling in the peace and happiness of finally being together again and the fact that this time we knew we could keep our promise to each other. And it _would_ be for forever.

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><p>Thank you so much for reading! I hope that I didn't make them out of character and that it was ok! Like I said part two is complete and will be up in a few days. Please let me know what you think!<p> 


	2. Part 2: Sayid

Thank you to **Fred80** for reviewing and to **DiorNicole** for faving and alerting this story! Thank you all who read this as well. Anyway, on to what you are all here for:

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><p><strong>Remembering You<strong>

**Part 2: Sayid**

'Why on earth am I here?'

Of course there are two 'here's to address: sitting in this car and being parked across the street from this bar. I stare out the windshield at the seedy biker bar across the street from us.

The answer to the first…I am really not sure why I am here in this bright yellow hummer monstrosity. That guy, Desmond, and the one next to me, Hugo, are without a doubt certifiably insane – as I told him earlier. I had seriously considered getting out of the car when we were stopped outside that hotel earlier, but somehow Hugo's promise that I "would not regret it" if I stayed held me captive in my seat. Though, when he had turned up a few minutes later and dumped a man in the back seat – Charlie he had said was his name – I had briefly reconsidered the wisdom in staying and thought perhaps I would have been better off turning myself in.

I turn my head to stare out the window on my side so that my companion/captor/abductor, whatever you want to call him, cannot see my expression becoming troubled. Earlier when he had asked me if the two of us and a tranquilizer gun was familiar I did not really answer him. And honestly it wasn't familiar. But then at the same time something _was_. I could not vocalize it but something was pulling at my mind with wracking de'ja vu.

And that is why, I suppose, I am still sitting in this audacious car. A feeling.

I sigh. 'Perhaps Hugo and Desmond are not the only ones who are insane.'

I redirect my attention to the other "here" that needs addressing.

'Why are we parked across from this biker bar?'

The answer to the second is actually fairly simple:

I have no idea. This man sitting next to me just said that we have to be here. Other than that nothing. I haven't asked why since he hasn't been that forth coming with straight answers this entire time; just very cryptic responses and outright evasions.

After a few more minutes of sitting in silence I decide to ask even though I know I will not likely be given a satisfactory answer.

"What are we doing here?" I finally voice the question circling in my mind.

He doesn't look at me. "I'm not allowed to tell you."

I roll my eyes. "What do you mean you're 'not allowed'?"

"There are rules, Dude." He still doesn't look at me.

I have just about reached the end of my rope; I turn to him and demand, "Whose rules?"

"Don't worry about it. Just trust me ok?" He finally turns to me; I look at him a dubiously. "I trust you," he adds.

That is not something I was expecting to hear. "And what, may I ask, have I done to deserve your trust?" I ask doubtfully.

"I think you're a good guy, Sayid," he says earnestly. This causes me to look down in shame, knowing this to be patently untrue with all that I have done.

He continues, "I know a lot of people have told you that you're not; maybe you've heard it so many times you've started believing it."

I look back at him, I'm sure my guilt is obvious on my face, as my litany of sins echoes through my mind.

"But you can't let other people tell you what you are, Dude," he tells me, almost sternly. "You have to decide that for yourself."

I feel the full weight of my wrongs sitting on my shoulders. "I'm sorry," I can hear my voice close to cracking; I swallow hard, "but you clearly don't know _anything_ about me." I look down again, unable to bear the trusting look in his eyes, knowing I don't deserve it.

"I know a_lot_about you, Dude," Hugo assures me; out of the corner of my eye I can see him smiling warmly in a way that I do not understand.

The sound of a fight has us both looking out the windshield to see one man pummeling another man.

"Looks like a gnarly fight," Hugo comments, offhandedly.

Normally I would not have been all that interested in two drunk men brawling, but for some reason I find myself watching the pair, unable to look away, and feeling somewhat concerned.

Then _she_ ran into view shouting, "Hey leave my brother alone!" And for some unfathomable reason I sit forward and I'm instantly captivated by this woman I can barely make out in the darkness, save for her golden colored hair shining under the streetlight as she runs to help the man who is being beaten – apparently her brother. The man is substantially bigger than her, but she grabs him, trying to pull him away from the prone figure on the ground. I tense in my seat, fearing for her. The man knocks her into a wall and she falls into a pile of trash for her efforts.

The fury burning in me flares hot and quick; before I can even think about what I am doing I'm out of the car and racing over to the scene of the fight. I grab the man's arm as he raises it to strike the woman again. I land a couple of well-placed blows and only moments later the man's on the ground groaning before slipping into unconsciousness. I leave him in the gutter, with the rest of the filth, and move over to where the woman lies, dazed from hitting the wall, but stirring. My anger is already cooling and switching back to concern. I reach out and gently run my hand down her arm to grasp her elbow; I feel sparks race up from my hand at the contact, but I push the sensation aside in my concern for the woman.

"Hey," I say gently, "it's alright."

She looks down at my hand, staring at it in almost confusion for several moments before her expression changes to one of shock and burgeoning hope that confuses me. She follows my arm up to my eyes where they lock.

The world shifts under my feet and a recognition that makes no sense sparks in me.

Joy immediately floods her face as she stares up into my eyes, along with another emotion that I cannot name.

But moments later I know exactly what it is, as the memories that had been flickering at the back of my consciousness flood my mind all at once.

Her soft, sweet voice flowing over the words of the French song.

Telling me she wants to start her 'new life' on the island after kissing me for the first time.

Her begging me to believe in her.

Her welcoming embrace when I returned with Charlie from finding Aaron.

Her guarded question after the one time we slept together about whether it meant we were serious, and the relief and joy in her expression at my deadpan, teasing answer.

The look in her eyes when I told her that I loved her.

Her bright, beautiful smile.

The indescribable pain at her death.

How I died a little more each day after that.

How I could not truly breathe.

Digging her grave, and knowing that my heart was buried in there with her.

The near-relief when the time for my death came.

All of it, sharp and clear in my memory once more.

I take my first full, real breath.

Her hand is gripping my arm back; I pull her gently to her feet, neither of us able to look away from each other's eyes.

She's blinking rapidly; her lips spread in that smile I love so well, joy and love shining in her eyes. "Sayid," she says quietly, her voice overflowing with emotion.

It takes me a moment, but I finally can breathe out her name, "Shannon." I reach up to cup the side of her face with my hand, reassuring myself that she is truly real, and here. She leans into my touch, looking at me as if I am the only thing she ever wanted, just as much as she is for me; before her I never dreamed to see such a look directed at me.

I do not deserve her. My hands are stained with blood from my lifetime and even from my time in this place. I don't deserve her, but at the same time…I can't let her go. As selfish as she has been accused of being, I am when it comes to her.

Her expression becomes one of such compassion and love, and I realize that as I am now beginning to be shown everything she went through in life, she must know the same for me… I want to look away in shame, but I can't.

Then she says the words I have waited to hear ever since the first moment I realized that I love her.

"I love you, Sayid." Her eyes shine brightly with that love.

Relief crashes over me – she loves me, even with all of my sins, and the blood on my hands, she loves me. Joy burns in my heart. My lips capture hers; she returns the kiss enthusiastically. Her kiss, as always, holds all of her natural passion and fragile heart that she most of the time works so hard to hide behind an aloof façade of indifference and toughness, but her true nature always comes through in her kiss.

My heart, dead in my chest for so long, beats for the first time since hers stopped. I lock my arms around her, still a little afraid that if I loosen my grip she will vanish and I will be once again left alone, aching. I finally feel truly alive; no longer just going through the motions or only feeling half-alive.

Eventually I loosen my grip enough for our lips to part and I whisper back to her, "I love you. And I will _never_ leave you," reaffirming my promise to her from life.

She's grinning; tears – happy ones, as she once explained to me back on the Island – are sliding down her cheeks. "I know," she says, leaning her forehead against mine. "And I'm not ever leaving you either." Her arms link around my neck. "You're stuck with me, forever."

I pull her into another tight embrace. "That is a promise I will be holding you to," I informed her.

"And _I_ will be holding you to _that_," she whispers back.

I smile at the slight teasing in her tone, but know that her words are entirely serious; I run a hand over her hair. I don't know where we are going, but I do know that, no matter what, we will keep our promises to each other. We have done our time in hell, found redemption and now, we look forward to heaven. Together.

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><p>And there we have it! Sayid's side of things. I'm sorry if you think they are OOC, I tried not to make them such. Anywho. I'm thinking of doing a companion piece to this story about Boone, how he remembered and everything, let me know if anyone would like to see that. Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!<p> 


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